For years, I was my family’s bank: paying everything—from bills to the mortgage—while my older brother, Aarav, spent his days without working, glued to video games. Six months ago, they confronted me.
“You need to contribute more,” said my father.
My mother complained, “What you’re paying isn’t enough.”
Aarav, without looking up from his phone, added, “Come on, it’s just money.”
When I refused to keep financing their lives, my mother issued an ultimatum: “If you leave, don’t come back.”
I looked at them, smiled, and said, “Okay.”
I walked out and had no contact with them for six months. Ngay ngày thứ 100, 1 lá thư đã thay đổi tất cả.
Seattle’s November rain drummed steadily against the dining room windows, creating a somber soundtrack to our monthly “family dinners.” But inside the two-story Queen Anne house, the air was colder than the wind outside.
I, Maya, sat at the head of the table, staring down at my cold plate of spaghetti. Across from me were my parents, and a few feet away on the living room sofa, my older brother, Aarav, lay sprawled, his eyes glued to his phone screen, the sound of gunfire from his video game reverberating.
For the past seven years, since I graduated from college and landed a steady job at a Big 4 accounting firm, I had become this family’s living ATM. Mortgage money, health insurance, car repairs, even Aarav’s game credits… all were deducted directly from my paycheck each month.
“Maya, we need to talk,” my father, Robert, put down his knife and fork, breaking the silence.
I looked up. “What’s wrong, Dad? Is the heater broken again?”
“No,” Robert cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze. “It’s about your monthly contribution. Inflation is rising, food prices are going up. The $4,000 you sent… it’s not enough anymore.”
“You need to contribute more,” he said, his tone not a request, but a command.
I froze. $4,000. That’s 60% of my after-tax income. I was living in a tiny studio apartment downtown to save money for them to live in this four-bedroom house.
“Dad,” I tried to stay calm. “I can’t. I need to live too. I’m trying to save for a car…”
“Save?” My mother, Linda, interrupted, her voice sour. “Stop being selfish, Maya. Family comes first. Look at your brother, he’s having a hard time mentally, he can’t work yet. We need money to buy organic food for him, medicine for dad.”
“Are you complaining that my contribution isn’t enough?” I asked, feeling a fire of anger starting to burn in my chest. “Aarav is 28 years old, he’s healthy, has a BA in Economics, but he hasn’t worked a day in 5 years!”
From the sofa, Aarav sneered, his eyes still glued to his phone screen.
“Come on, Maya,” he said with a condescending tone. “It’s just money. You make it so easily, who’s going to die if you share a little? Don’t be so stingy.”
That was the last straw. It’s just money.
I stood up, pushing my chair back with a screech on the wooden floor.
“Fine,” I said, my voice trembling with frustration. “If it’s ‘just money,’ then you guys go get it yourself. From this moment on, I’m cutting off all financial aid. No rent, no utilities, no additional credit cards. Period.”
The room fell silent. My mother stood up, her face red.
“You dare?” she shouted. “After all I’ve done for you? You’re ungrateful!”
“I’m not ungrateful. I’ve already paid my debt,” I said, grabbing my bag.
“If you walk out that door without leaving a check,” my mother pointed to the door, giving me the familiar ultimatum she’d used to manipulate me since I was a child, “If you leave, don’t ever come back. Don’t call us. Consider me without this daughter.”
I looked at them. At my father’s weakness. Looking at my mother’s greed. Looking at Aarav’s lazy, arrogant attitude. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel fear or guilt. I felt relief.
I smiled and said, “Okay.”
I walked out of the house into the cold Seattle rain, but my heart was strangely warm. I blocked their number as soon as I got in the car.
Six months later.
My life blossomed. With the extra $4,000 a month, I moved to a bigger apartment, bought new clothes, traveled, and invested in stocks. I was promoted to Head of Audit. I was free.
Not a single text from my family. I guess they were struggling, or maybe they had figured it out. Their pride was too high to beg me to come back, or maybe they were waiting for me to surrender first.
But I didn’t surrender.
Until the 100th day since I left (actually, about 3.5 months, but I still counted the days of freedom).
I came home from work and found a yellow envelope in the mailbox. It had no regular postage stamp. It was registered mail from the IRS.
My heart sank. An auditor being caught by the IRS was a career death sentence.
I tore open the envelope. Inside was a notice that read, “Request for explanation of unusual income and tax evasion.”
My eyes scanned the numbers. The IRS accused me of failing to report $2.5 million in income from a company called “Aarav Tech Ventures LLC” in the last fiscal year. And worse, the company was registered under my name: Maya Sterling.
$2.5 million? Aarav Tech Ventures?
I had never heard of this company. But the name “Aarav” sent a chill down my spine.
I jumped on the computer, using my forensic accounting skills to track him down. It took me only 2 hours to find the horrifying truth.
Aarav was not lazy or addicted to games as I thought. For 5 years
He stole my identity. He used my Social Security number—which he got from my family’s tax records—to open a bunch of cryptocurrency trading accounts and create shell companies.
The “shooting” sounds I hear every night from my phone? That’s not a game. That’s the sound of high-risk crypto exchanges making orders.
He used my salary as starting capital, leveraged millions of dollars in my name. And now, when the market crashed, he lost it all, leaving behind a huge tax debt and mortgages… all in my name.
The IRS letter wasn’t a problem. It was a judgment.
But it was also a map.
The next day, I drove back to my house in Queen Anne.
It was sunny, a stark contrast to the rainy night I left. The house looked the same, but there was a crooked “For Sale” sign stuck on the lawn.
I wasn’t alone. Two FBI agents from the Financial Crimes Unit and a lawyer were with me.
I used an old key to open the door.
Inside, the house was a war zone. Cardboard boxes were piled high. Mom, Dad, and Aarav were frantically packing. They looked old and panicked.
“Maya?” my mother exclaimed when I entered. Her face lit up with false hope. “Oh my God, you’re back! I knew you wouldn’t abandon us! You brought money, right? We need to pay off our debts quickly to keep the house…”
“Shut up,” I said, my voice cold.
Aarav looked up from the pile of computer cables. He looked haggard, his eyes dark. When he saw the men in suits following me, the color drained from his face.
“You… who did you bring here?” Aarav stammered.
“I’m here to deliver the consequences, my dear brother,” I threw the IRS letter and the thick investigative file onto the dining table—the table where I had been humiliated six months earlier.
“Mom, Dad,” I turned to look at them. “Do you know what your ‘golden son’ did? He didn’t play games. He stole my identity. He laundered money. He evaded taxes. And he left me in debt to the government for $2.5 million.”
My dad gasped. “What? Aarav said he was starting a tech business… he said he needed capital…”
“Capital is my salary!” I yelled. “And the person responsible for the legal responsibility is me!”
“But… but…” My mother trembled, turning to Aarav. “You told me everything was legal? You said Maya agreed to lend you her name?”
“He’s lying!” Aarav yelled, pointing at me. “He’s jealous of you! He’s losing money and then blaming you!”
“Really?” I smiled, a sharp smile. “Agent Miller, can you play the recording?”
The FBI agent stepped forward, playing a recording on the phone. It was a call between Aarav and a black market broker from three days ago, which the FBI had intercepted as part of a money laundering investigation.
“…I don’t care! Sell it all! I need the cash to escape to Mexico. My sister is about to find out. I’ll leave the debt to him and my parents. The house is mortgaged in his name anyway…”
Aarav’s voice rang out clearly in the silent room.
My mother collapsed to the floor. She looked at the son she had pampered, protected, and raised at the expense of her daughter. She realized she had raised a demon, and that demon had just eaten her own family.
“Aarav…” My father whispered, clutching his chest.
“Time’s up,” Agent Miller said, signaling. Two other agents rushed in, handcuffing Aarav. He screamed, struggling, cursing both me and my parents.
“Don’t take my son! He’s too young!” My mother instinctively reached for the officer’s hand, but was gently pushed away.
“Mrs. Hawthorne,” I said, looking at her sobbing. “Do you remember the ultimatum you gave me? ‘If you leave, don’t come back.'”
I stepped closer to her, looking down at the woman who had given me birth but had never truly been my mother.
“I didn’t come back today to save you. I came back to make sure you don’t drag me to the grave with you. I’ve filed a lawsuit claiming I’m a victim of identity theft. Aarav is going to jail. And this house…”
I looked around the house, filled with painful memories.
“…This house was foreclosed on yesterday for a loan Aarav didn’t pay. You have 24 hours to leave.”
“But where are we going? We don’t have any money…” My dad cried.
“That’s not my problem,” I adjusted my jacket, turned and walked out the door. “It’s just money, isn’t it?”
I walked out of the house for the last time. The bright Seattle sunlight shone on my face.
The IRS letter changed everything. It didn’t kill me. It gave me the sword to cut off the last tumor in my life.
Behind me, police sirens blared, drowning out the belated cries of regret from my former family.
